Could Have, Should Have, Would Have
by Chelle Storey-Daniel
Summary: Many years have passed and George writes a letter to an old friend.


Title: Could Have, Should Have, Would Have (1/1)

Author: Chelle Storey-Daniel

Rating: R

Summary: Callie left George when she found out about the affair. And he finally goes to see her in the future.

A/N: Tissue warning!! OMFG.

I was not ready to let her go.

That thing with Izzie ... it took doing it sober to make me realize that we were only ever supposed to be friends. We had laughed at each other so hard as we attempted to have sex the second and last time. I made fun of her knees, she made fun of my bird legs. We didn't do it, not really. Only, we kinda did. It was awful. It was horrible.

She wasn't my wife.

She wasn't Callie.

I knew I had to tell her. I did. I knew that she had a right to know so I broke the news as gently as I could and cushioned it with promises to love her and somehow make it right. She didn't say anything at all for the longest time and then she simply nodded at me, picked up her purse, and walked out of the hotel room.

I should have gone after her.

I could have. I should have. I would have.

I find most of my sentences starting this way nowadays.

Chief Webber called me to the hospital that night. All he said was that I was needed. I wasn't on duty, but I figured it was better to go and be useful instead of wait in the dark for her. I saw Dr. Shepherd first and he put a hand on my shoulder and softly, as gently as you could tell a baby a bedtime story, he told me that my wife was dead.

I never really saw her until they lifted the sheet and I looked down at her. I had woken up next to her for months and I never really looked until that moment. She was beautiful. Her skin was tanned, even in death. It was smooth and the spattering of freckles on her nose and cheeks were something that I had to touch. I wiped her blood away with my bare hand and leaned down, whispering in her ear. What I said to her was a secret, meant only for her.

She was cold.

Her lips were parted slightly and I felt robbed because I didn't get to feel her last breath the way my mother had felt my father's. I kissed her. I kissed her lips, her cheeks, her eyes and she was so cold that it sank into me. I felt a bone deep chill that I had never experienced in my life.

Someone was screaming and I wondered if maybe Addison had come back.

Then I felt the pain in my throat and I knew it was me. Dr. Shepherd stood just off the side of the room and then Dr. Bailey was there, her arms around me. They weren't Callie's arms. I needed to feel Callie's arms.

I crawled onto the gurney and pulled her arm around me. I buried my face against her black hair and begged God to bring her back.

People who tell you that God listens to sinners ... they lie.

He didn't listen.

But my co-workers did when I begged to be alone with her. With Callie. With my wife.

It was the last time I ever held her and I'd like to think that I made it count. I'd like to think that my soul touched hers ... wherever it was and that she heard my apologies and my grief and could feel my love. I never made her feel loved while she was alive, but I poured everything I had into her deaf ears and swore to her that I'd never let her go again.

The police said that it was just an accident. She wasn't paying attention to the road and Chief Webber said that it was instant, that she didn't feel anything. I know better, though. I saw her face, see, when she picked up her purse and left. She died right there in front of me and I'm the one who killed her. The car ... it just took care of the rest.

I should have gone after her. I could have saved her. I would have been a better husband.

Should have.

Could have.

Would have.

She's been gone for close to thirty years. She would have been sixty today. I take her favorite flower out to the cemetery every day, but today I'm taking something else. Our headstones are side by side and her date came too early and mine has taken forever to get here. I've never slept with anyone since her. I've never dated, never gotten past what might have been. You can mourn a death, but to mourn what you could have had ... to live with a ghost that you made ... that's hell on earth.

I'm going to go with her today, though.

God didn't listen to me when I asked him to let her come back and he hasn't listened to me since then. I've pleaded on bended knee to not survive cancer, to not wake up every morning, to go where she is. But today ... I'm going after her. I'm doing what I should have done. I'm ready to catch her now.

So, by the time you read this it'll be too late.

You'll find me with my wife which is where I should have been and should have stayed. I could have, should have, would have and now I am. Don't miss me. I'm taking a journey that I've been aching to take for years and I just pray that when I find her ... she will say that she's been listening all along to every promise that I've made.

I'm going home, Meredith.

Where Callie is. Where my parents are.

You once told me that you saw Denny when you died. And Doc. And you roamed the hospital, but I don't think Callie's roaming the hospital anymore. I think she's waiting for me in the house that we should have bought and she knows I'm coming so she has on her pretty brown dress and the pearls that she hated, but I loved. And she's not old like me. And her wounds have healed. I know that. I know that she's there.

Because I see her every night in my dreams. She never speaks, she just waits.

Make sure they bury me beside her. Make sure that you bring her a lily when they bury me because she loved lilies and now no one will bring them anymore. Maybe the one I'm taking with me will cross over and I won't see her empty handed.

You've been a wonderful friend to me all these years.

I'll miss you, but I'm going home, Meredith.

And she'll be there. She will. I've waited a long time to tell her face to face that I love her and that I've never stopped.

I'll see you someday. We'll see you. Together. The way that we should have always been.

Love always,

George


End file.
